


Dancer in the Dark

by MissChrisDaae



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms, Swan Lake & Related Fandoms, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ballet, Alternate Universe - Phantom of the Opera Fusion, Endgame Fosterson, F/M, Love Triangles, Psychological Trauma, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-26
Updated: 2016-10-18
Packaged: 2018-03-03 07:38:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2843306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissChrisDaae/pseuds/MissChrisDaae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jane Foster has always been a member of the corps de ballet, and has never voiced complaint until one night when she indulges in the fantasy of being the prima ballerina. A mysterious voice calls out to her, tempting her, coaching her, offering to make her a star, and she accepts.<br/>Months later, the prophecy comes to light when the star of the company becomes mysteriously indisposed. Jane is suddenly cast into the spotlight, becoming an immediate success, but she only has eyes for Thor, the young scion to the ballet's greatest patron family, who has been masquerading as a stagehand in order to continue a longstanding liaison with her.<br/>But Jane's made a deal with something far worse than the devil, and now he's coming to claim his due.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Effacé

 

Jane shouldn't have been in the theatre or on the stage this late at night, but she hadn't been able to sleep. And when she couldn't sleep, she danced.

Tying her pointe shoes neatly, she worked through her usual stretches before starting to hum the  _moderato assai_ from Act II.

  _Swan Lake_ was her favorite. It always had been, ever since her mother had first told her the story when she was a little girl. That had also been the day Jane begged her mother to let her become a ballerina. Now, years later, here she was.

Granted, it wasn't what she had initially dreamt of. She was in the corps, a little swan, but just the feeling of what she could do was still enough to make her feel beautiful. Even so, now, when she was alone, she was dancing the part of the Swan Queen, just to have that one taste of what it must be like. Every step felt like dancing on a cloud, losing herself to the magic of the fairytale.

She was just sinking into a bow when the sound of a single person clapping began to reverberate through the theatre.  _"Brava, Jane Foster,_ " a voice whispered in her ear. She turned to look, but there was no one there.

"Hello?" she called out, looking again. "Is someone there?"

" _Hush, little one,_ " the voice told her. " _Let me see you dance again. The Black Swan this time, never mind that you don't have a partner. Show me how you would dance her."_

Unsure of what else to do, Jane threw herself into the dancing once more, this time summoning the mischief and the malice that she had always associated with the Black Swan, and the result left her breathless with exhilaration. When she stopped, the clapping came again.

 _"You are good,"_ the voice told her. " _But you could be great. Certainly better than that vain little peacock who dances the role at present. Would you like for me to make you great, little Jane? Would you like for me to make you a star?_ "

"You can do that?" she spoke aloud, still looking for the man's voice. It was so soft in her ears, soft like velvet and sharp like a knife, how was it he wasn't next to her?

" _It will take all you have, can you give it?"_ The chance was dangling in front of her, she could almost taste it, almost hear the cheering as she took a final bow.

"Yes!" she blurted. "Please, please, teach me, I want to do it." The voice laughed.

" _You must do everything I tell you for the sake of your training, is that clear?"_

"Yes," she told him, nodding.

" _Very well, then, Jane Foster, you belong to me now."_


	2. Avant

A new season was upon them, and that meant Jane had even less time for her private lessons with the voice. All summer, she had devoted her evenings to her new training, to the point where she could now dance any leading role, even when sleeping. And, whether or not she knew it, some people were beginning to notice.

The one who noticed most clearly was the mistress of the corps, Natasha Romanoff. The stony faced red haired woman was barely ten years older than Jane’s own twenty-two, and had once been the star of the Bolshoi before coming to Paris, but an injury to her back had cut her career short. As if to make up for it, the Paris Opera Ballet had given her the post of maîtresse du corps de ballet, the opportunity to choreograph when it suited her, and a very handsome salary. There were rumors among some of the younger girls that she had gotten so much because the managers were scared of her.

Regardless, Natasha’s blue eyed gaze was often upon Jane, sometimes uncomfortably so. She told the voice about it, but it only laughed and told her that Natalia Romanova would matter little once Jane had come into her full potential.

The day before the company was scheduled to début Swan Lake, Jane was heading back to the dormitories when a strong pair of arms encircled her, pulling her back and making her spin as she faced what she always missed the most with the summer.

“You look even more beautiful than you did when I left,” Thor whispered in her ear as he kissed his way along her shoulders. He’d grown a beard over the summer and it tickled against her skin, making her laugh as she tried to pull away. “What is it?”

“Someone might see us!”

“We’re alone for the moment, Jane, just let me say hello properly, please.” He kissed her sweetly, cupping a hand to her cheek, and Jane found herself melting into his touch.

This was the third year now that she had been secretly seeing Thor Odinson, the heir to the Dukedom of Asgard in Norway, which, according to the ladies of the opera, was practically a kingdom. Perhaps it was because both she and Thor didn’t come from Paris that she had been drawn to him, he a nobleman from the far north, and she having a British father. In the end, the reason for their attraction was not important, only that they’d met in the Luxembourg Gardens, and, a few days later, Thor had shown up at the Garnier in far shabbier clothes, asking after a post as a stagehand. Ever since that day, they’d conducted their illicit courtship in the wings and shadowed corners of the theatre, but, no matter how much time passed, each time he kissed her felt like it was the first time all over again, breathless, giddy and beautiful.

_No distractions._ The voice suddenly became painfully loud in her ears, and she pulled away. “I’m sorry, I have to go now.”  
“Will I see you tonight?”

“I… I have a previous engagement,” Jane said, allowing herself the small lie. “Anyway, aren’t you going to be working tonight?”

“I can steal a few minutes for the most beautiful woman in Paris.”

“Thor—” He silenced her with another kiss, but this time, she didn’t savor the moment, and pushed him away. “I told you, I have to go, now. I have to practice.”

“One more kiss? Please?” Jane pecked his lips quickly, before ducking away and hurrying off.

* * *

_“You are late.”_

Jane closed the panel in the wall that led to the hidden dance room her teacher had shown her. Even after nearly four months, she couldn’t believe such a thing existed “I’m sorry, the review went later than I was expecting,” she explained, sitting down to put on her shoes.

_“I saw you with the boy, Jane. What did I clearly say?”_

“I didn’t—”

_“When next you see him, I expect you to end it. Is that clear?”_

“Yes, sir.” She stood up, awaiting his instruction.

_“Good. Now, just the finale tonight, there’s no need for you to be overtired tomorrow. Tomorrow, the world will see you.”_

“Catherine is the Swan Queen,” Jane pointed out. “And Isabelle is her alternate.”

_“Never you mind that, little one, now dance.”_

”I won’t dance unless I know they won’t be hurt.” Jane folded her arms, tapping one pointe shoe against the floor.

_“Very well, little one. They won’t be harmed. Dance for me now.”_

This time, Jane did as she was told, losing herself in the heartbreak of the Swan Queen. It was extremely easy to do so with the new knowledge that she was going to have to break Thor’s heart. And thus, her own.

* * *

"What do you mean, not here yet?" Jane glanced up from getting into her costume in order to look over to where M. Acharnement, the director appeared to be at his wits' end. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Thor waving from the fly gallery, and ducked her head, still listening to the unfolding drama.

"Exactly what I said," Natasha repeated impassively. "There is no sign of Catherine or Isabelle. It may be wise to refund—"

"I can dance it," Jane blurted out. Everyone was looking at her now in disbelief, but she kept her back straight. "I know the role perfectly, Monsieur. I can dance it, you won't have to cancel the performance."

"Jane Foster, back to your place this instant," Natasha ordered, but M. Acharnement walked over, inspecting Jane with his one good eye.

"You're in the corps," he said doubtfully.

"I can dance it," Jane repeated. "Catherine and Isabelle may be on their way, but if they don't make it in time, I can do it."

"Show me," Acharnement told her. Jane walked to the starting position for the Dance of the Swans and began.

Within the first five steps, the conductor had the pit perfectly in time with her, and Jane was flying, she was beautiful, she was free. When the music stopped and she finished, Acharnement nodded. "Be ready. We may need you tonight."

"Yes, sir," Jane nodded as one of the seamstresses began hurrying her off, most likely to make sure she could fit into the Swan Queen's costumes.

* * *

"Ladies and gentlemen, we must inform you of a change to this evening's program. Neither Catherine Moreau nor Isabelle Dupré will be performing tonight. In the role of the Swan Queen will be... Jane Foster."

The applause was half-hearted at most, which wasn't helping the fact that Jane was bouncing up and down on her toes in anticipation. She wasn't on until the second act, but the tension was already mounting.

"You will do well," Natasha said, walking past her. Even as she was saying something kind, Jane didn't feel very comforted by the Russian woman's words. From the ropes, Thor glanced over at Jane and smiled, making the dancer duck her head in shame. She still hadn't told him, and it wasn't going to be any easier after the performance.

_Leave it all behind,_ she told herself. _Now is not the time to be Jane. Now is the time when you have to be the Swan Queen._

And she did exactly that, from the moment she stepped onstage to the finale. She poured her soul into her dancing as never before and when she collapsed at the end, every single member of the audience leapt to their feet, cheering her. Jane was weeping as she bowed, and smiling through the tears. Someone passed her a full bouquet of roses, which she accepted breathlessly. Beaming, she sank down for one last bow as the curtain fell and the entire corps crowded around her, babbling about everything. Jane found herself fighting to breathe, and then, without warning, she collapsed into the collected arms of her cast mates, losing consciousness.

* * *

Jane woke up on a couch in the dressing rooms,  her shoes gone and her costume exchanged for a robe over her chemise. The company doctor and Natasha were standing over her. "Overwhelmed, it seems," the doctor said. "She should be fine."

"I think it may be wise not to let her attend the gala," Natasha said, turning away to look at Acharnement.

"There are a dozen reporters out there who will want to talk to her."

"They'll have to do it another time. Besides, Catherine will be back soon, do you want to bring more attention to her?"

"I don't mind," Jane said weakly.

"You are resting," Natasha told her firmly. "You have had a long night. Now, stay down."

"But, Madame—"

"I said stay."

"Yes, Madame," Jane said reluctantly, settling back under the blankets.

"Good girl. We'll leave you now." They all filed out, leaving Jane alone to fall back and take a very long, deep breath. Then the door opened, and Thor slipped in, beaming at her.

"You were incredible, Jane. I didn't know you could dance like that," he said, leaning in to kiss her. Jane pulled away, shaking her head. "Jane, what is it?"

"We can't do this anymore," she said, sadly. "I need to focus on my career, and if I want that, I can't keep seeing you."

Thor stepped back, looking absolutely heartbroken. "You can't mean that..."

"I can... I do," she lied. "This means more to me than anything. Please, you need to go."

"You're lying to me."

"I told you, you need to go," Jane insisted, forcing back her tears. "Just... just get out."

"Jane—"

"I said go!" She stood up, pushing against him. "Please, just go! I don't want to see you... ever again." With one last shove, she got him out the door, and closed it, sobbing.

" _It will be worth it,"_ the voice spoke. Jane looked up, salty tracks shining on her face in the candlelight. " _He insulted you. You were nothing short of glorious this evening._ "

"It feels like my soul is gone. Like I gave it up tonight."

" _And it is safe in my keeping, my dear Jane. Come closer to the mirror, now, the next part of your training has come."_

"What more is there?"

" _Come to the mirror. Walk through_."

"What?" she asked in alarm.

" _Trust in me. Have I not delivered everything I have promised thus far?"_

"You have," Jane admitted.

_"Then trust in me. Through the mirror."_

Jane saw an odd sort of smoke leaking through the mirror, and found herself becoming oddly lightheaded as she walked towards the glass, but when she should have hit the glass, she passed through it, and into a dark corridor. "What..." she breathed, but then a hand came over her mouth, a hand that felt lik the cold touch of winter. Jane struggled for only a moment before fainting once again.


	3. Brisé

Jane woke up in a room that was lit only by a few candles.Her body and head ached, and she could hear the faint sounds of a pianoforte. Rubbing at her temples, she slowly swung her legs over the side of the bed, following the music. Despite her soreness, she couldn’t help rising onto her toes and swaying in time with the melody as she opened the door.

The room was just as dimly lit as the one where she had woken in, but this one was occupied by a pianoforte and a man playing it with such fluid grace that it nearly moved Jane to tears when he stopped. "I hadn’t expected you to wake so early. Breakfast isn’t even ready yet."

_The voice_ …. Jane backed against the doorframe, her heart pounding as he stood and began walking towards her. "You…"

"We could do with a little more light," he said briskly, reaching past her to turn up a series of gaslights, giving the room a new rosy glow. And for the first time, Jane looked at the form of her teacher.

He was tall, perhaps as tall as Thor, but far thinner. Everything about him that she could see was black, his hair, his clothes, and even his face was covered with a mask of black, so that all Jane could see were two impossibly red eyes. She could discern nothing else, for every possible inch of skin he could have had appeared to be covered.

"You lied to me," she blurted.

"Did I?" He stopped to look at her. "Did I ever say that I was not a man?"

"I thought—"

"Precisely. You thought. I said nothing. And now, you know that I am not a ghost or spirit of any kind. I am simply Loki."

"Loki," she repeated. "Where… where are we?"

"I call it Jötunheim," Loki answered. "And I consider it my realm. No one knows we are here."

"You kidnapped me." Jane’s fingers latched tightly around the door handle as she digested her circumstances.

"You were more than willing to follow me last night."

"Last night, I didn’t know the truth about what you were. Luring me here under false pretenses is still kidnapping me."

"I would beg to differ, but I don’t believe it matters. We have a chance to become properly acquainted now." He reached out, taking her hand, but she pulled it away.

"I don’t know that I want to. Take me back."

"No." He clucked his tongue, moving closer so that their bodies were almost touching. "Honestly, Jane, you act as though you’re in danger. I can assure you, no harm will come to you by my hand."

"You say this after having admitted to deceiving me, and while you wear a mask. What reason do I have to believe you, if you cannot even trust me enough to show me your face?"

"The mask—" Jane heard leather creak as he clenched his hands, and a hiss of breath. "The mask is here to protect _you_."

"Protect me from what?"

"Enough, Jane."

"No, not enough! You owe me a proper explanation!" She reached out to grab at the mask, but he caught her wrist, grip tight on her skin. "Let… let me go."

"Not until we’ve finished your training." He spun her under his arm, making her wince as her feet were unexpectedly twisted around. "You still have much to learn, and your dancing…" They were in an unsettling embrace now, his arms tightly closed around her body, so tight that she worried he could feel her heart pounding. "Your dancing gives me solace. It calms the storm."

"And…" Jane sucked in a breath. "If I decide I don’t want to dance anymore?"

"Then you have no reason to go back."

"I… I have friends… and Thor…" She stopped, blood running cold as Loki’s hold on her became even more vice-like.

"He has no claim to you, you ended things with him, just as I told you. You chose _me_ , you are mine. And I will not allow you to go back on your word."

"An oath given under false pretenses," she insisted, still struggling, despite how useless it was proving. Loki's arms might as well have been ice, cold, unyielding, unforgiving."If there is any decency in your heart, let me go!" Her arm went up, fingers clenched in a fist, she struck him across the face with all the power she had in her body, and the mask flew off, banging loudly against the wall.

She screamed. No one heard her.

* * *

Thor had quit his stagehand job. Without Jane, there wasn't any point in being there, it would only break his heart further. Though the last three weeks had not been easy for him. Returning in full to the life of an aristocrat was unsettling enough, but for his friends to come down from Norway in a misguided attempt at lifting his spirits made things even worse. He hadn't told them he'd been slumming about incognito, but he had sent pages upon pages detailing his affections for Jane. As such, Fandral was determined to find a woman capable of distracting the young lord for the night while Hogun and Volstagg tried to ask after his wellbeing. And Thor found he was too preoccupied to appreciate their gestures.

What he had overheard that night unnerved him still. What manner of creature held Jane in its sway so deeply that she would promise her soul? And the fact that she had disappeared… it made no sense.

“… went off to America… Thor, are you listening?” He looked up at his friends.

“Yes… Forgive me, my thoughts were wandering.”

“Wandering to a woman not worthy of your thoughts,” Fandral retorted. “This is the very city of lovers, my friend, with no shortage of pretty young things who would jump at the chance to be on your arm, even for an hour.”

“And it is for that reason exactly that I will none of them,” interrupted Thor. “There are just as many women like that back home in Asgard.”

“The man is dead inside, and the baggage has killed him,” Fandral declared, throwing up his hands in exasperation. Thor clenched his fist, in an attempt to quell the urge to strike out at his friend. Jane was many things, but _not_ a baggage, never a baggage.

“Do not speak of her in such a way,” he warned softly.

“The heart is a slow thing to heal, my friend. But in time, you’ll get there.” Volstagg patted him reassuringly on the shoulder. “Fandral doesn’t understand that because, in place of a heart, he has—”

“And how does your brood without you to fuss over them?” Fandral shot back, sparing them all another hearing of the most particular of insults as Thor turned his head, and his eyes widened.

Stepping into a carriage, wearing a very fine dress of grey silk and her hair swept up in the latest fashion was— “Jane!” He blurted her name out, and she turned, eyes widening in awe. A black gloved hand extended from the coach, and Jane paled, dropping a small white square object from her reticule as she took the mysterious hand and stepped inside the carriage.

Thor bolted from the table, hurrying to catch up with them as the horses started, but received only mud spattering on his legs for his trouble. But the white object was still there, and he bent to retrieve it as his friends caught him up.

“What has gotten into you?” Fandral’s disbelief was audible even before Thor turned and saw it on his face. “Don’t tell me that was her?” Thor didn’t answer, more focused on cleaning off what he realized now was a letter, addressed to him in Jane’s borderline meticulous script, so Fandral took his silence to be affirmative. “Good Lord, man, she’s clearly found some other fool, why waste more time on her?”

“Leave me be, Fandral. That’s an order.” Thor brushed him aside, heading towards a lamp-post so as to better read what had been inscribed on the page.

_Thor,_

_You have no reason to believe me or to forgive me, but I ask both these things of you, because I am desperate, and you are the only person I was sure I could trust._

_I made a mistake, Thor, one that has turned my life into a nightmare, but I feel I have to tell you face to face. As I am sure you know, there is to be a masquerade tomorrow night at the Opera House. At eleven o’ clock, be under the grand staircase, wearing a golden mask, and let no one know who you are._

_If ever you loved me as I know I love you still, do this, and trust me._

_Jane_

He stared at the words, reading them again and again, and while he should have been more concerned, he kept coming back to the words _I love you still_. If this was proved a deception, he wouldn’t know how to react to it, but he had to believe it was true. He would have to wait until tomorrow night to know for certain.


	4. Croisé

“You are quiet tonight.”

“I have nothing to say.”

"Then you will not mind if we practice.” Loki reached out to the end table and lifted up a pearly white music box, inspecting it on his gloved fingertips. “Go change into your practice clothes.”

“I already know _Giselle_ back and forth,” Jane protested.

“We’re not practicing _Giselle_. Go and change.” Loki’s voice turned icy, and Jane flinched as she obeyed and retreated into her room. That was the easiest thing she could do when it came to Loki. Swallow her fear, do what he wanted and try not to think about what she knew hid beneath the black mask.

She undid her dress, hating the feeling of the silk under her fingers. All these fine things, gifts that she knew were meant to make up for the fact that they both knew he was keeping her a prisoner. Once in her practice frock and pointe shoes, she stretched a few times and did a single pirouette in front of the full-length mirror.

“Jane, I’m waiting.” Swallowing her hesitation, she lowered herself back down and walked back into the sitting room. Loki was now standing by the end table, still holding the music box, though now he was winding the key. 

“If this is not _Giselle_ , what is it you want me to practice?” she asked warily.

“Something of my own creation.” He set the porcelain case down as a haunting little melody began to chime. “Go on. Do what your body tells you.”

_My body tells me that I need to get as far away from you as I can_ , Jane wanted to say, but something caught her, something in the music that made it impossible for her to ignore it. She let her legs start moving across the varnished wood floor, falling into the trancelike state Loki had that way of casting on her. She dipped and spun in time with the rise and fall of the melody, almost losing herself until she felt Loki’s gloved hands on her wrists, guiding her into a new series of steps.

Part of her wanted to resist, knew she should resist, but, at the same time, there was this odd feeling of implicit trust between the two of them as they moved. It was as though he knew what she would do before she did, and so they moved perfectly in time with one another and the music.

“You see what I mean?” he whispered in her ear. “This is something only you can do, Jane, the music doesn’t feel complete unless I see it through you.” His voice somehow simultaneously broke the spell and reinforced it, and the muddling in her mind caused her to stumble. Loki released his grip, and she could tell from his tone that his lip was curling in disdain. “You’re distracted.”

“No! No, I just…”

“Do not think to lie to me, Jane. It was the boy tonight, wasn’t it?”

“Of course not,” Jane said automatically. “You told me to end it, and I did. He doesn’t have any reason to want to see me now.”

“And that bothers you.”

“It does not,” she lied. “It just means… Things have changed… I’m not used to that.”

“Hmmm.” Loki ran his thumb along her cheek. “Perhaps it is in our best interests to stop for the night. Go to bed, Jane.”

“But—”

“I said go to bed. I can see now that I have overtired you with our little outing tonight. And I will not ask again.”

Jane sighed and nodded, knowing he had decided the argument was over. Her eyes briefly went to the other doors in the room before slowly retreating towards the comparative safety of her room. Loki caught her left hand, and she felt the touch of cold metal sliding up one of her fingers. Puzzled, she looked up at him, watching him raise her hand to the mouth of his mask.

“A promise, my little one. Keep it always, and you shall never have reason to fear me.” The unspoken threat of what would happen if she should lose it hung in the air and Jane could only nod as Loki left her alone in the depths of the vaults, with a hammered circle of gold now resting on the third finger of her left hand.

* * *

Thor had fallen asleep with Jane’s letter tucked beneath his pillow, trying not to think about what it really meant. He knew he had a full day left to wonder, and it was in his best interests to sleep, but it didn’t stop him tossing and turning until he finally drifted off.

Somewhere in the midst of slumber, he felt his air supply being cut off, his eyes snapping open. Someone was crushing his throat under a black gloved hand, two red, almost serpentine eyes glaring down at him. Gasping for air, Thor clawed at the hand, trying to push it away.

_“Listen well_ ,” his attacker hissed. “ _I’ve been lenient thus far, Thor Odinson, and this will be your only warning._ ** _She_** _is not for you. If I catch you near her again, I_ ** _will_** _kill you._ ”

Jane. There was no one else this… thing could be referring to. Still trying to push his attacker off, he grasped around with his free hand, finally managing to grab the pistol he kept beside his bed. His vision was starting to fail, but he managed to raise it high enough to aim and fire at the mysterious assailant.

It did the trick, as the stranger hissed and pulled back, releasing Thor from his vice-like grip as he disappeared through the open window. Thor scrambled up after him, intent on finishing the job, but by the time he reached the window, the man was gone.

“Thor, are you mad!” Fandral and the others came rushing in.

“Someone… just tried to kill me…. They fled out…” Thor’s knees buckled under his own weight and breathlessness. As Hogun and Fandral helped him back to his feet, Volstagg looked outside the house, then gave a quick bark of laughter.

“My dear fellow, I fear you have fired at a cat.”

“No… no, I know what happened, he was choking me—”

“It was a nightmare, my friend,” Fandral insisted, pushing him onto his bed. “Now do us all a favor and go back to sleep, will you? It’s too damn early in the morning for this kind of nonsense.”

They all filed out, grumbling that he had ruined their night, and, perhaps out of spite, Thor simply sat in bed, fuming at their refusal to believe him. In the morning, there’d be marks on his throat, they couldn’t deny the truth of it then.

Morning came soon enough, and he decided to forgo breakfast in favor of getting an early starter into investigating more of the mystery surrounding Jane’s disappearance and the attack that had happened to him.

For the past few seasons, Jane had been living in a ladies’ boarding house, run by a woman named Marie Coteau, to save her funds for more important expenses. That seemed to Thor like the best place to start. When he arrived, several of the young women were still breaking fast, among them the American girl who had shared a room with Jane, Darcy Lewis. Darcy had been an eager co-conspirator in the forbidden romance, as she’d found it terribly exciting, and she shot up eagerly at the sight of Thor.

“Well done! It certainly took you long enough!”

“I beg your pardon?” he frowned at her delight, unsure as to why she would be so. Darcy’s eyes bounced from one end of the room to the other, then, without warning, she took his arm and practically whisked him outside.

“Jane came in yesterday, in a beautiful new dress, and with a porter. I just assumed it meant you’d finally gotten married and were headed up north to tell your family of the scandal! She wouldn’t say a word!”

“Jane was here?” He had heard what she said after that, but the first words stuck most of all. Jane had managed to visit her old residence, but the best she could manage for him was a cryptic note? “Did she say anything to you?”

“In truth? Very little. She simply took the trinkets and books that she held dear, things of sentimental value, and told me I could keep anything else that suited me or sell it since she would no longer have need of them. She gave most of it to the porter to carry, embraced me and then said farewell… seemed rather a permanent one too.”

“And she told you nothing else, are you certain?”

“Why do you ask me all this, what do you know that I don’t, Thor?”

“I wish I could tell you, Darcy, but I haven’t spoken with her since she danced the Swan Queen.”

“Truly? But then who was it that sent the porter with her? And where has she been these past weeks?”

“Those are answers neither of us has. But I am going to find out what.”

Darcy stopped their walking by grabbing his arm. “Be careful. She didn’t say anything to me, but I saw… fear, I think, in her eyes. I thought it was for what was awaiting you two in Norway at first… but whatever is happening, I hope you can help her.”

“So do I, my friend. So do I.”

* * *

Jane readjusted the silver helmet of a Valkyrie she’d taken from the Opera costume stores. It concealed enough of her face that no one would guess who she was, but the metal felt like it was burning her skin, and she yearned to rip it off. The only thing keeping her from doing so was the fact that she had to wait for Thor, that he might be her only hope.

From across the room, she saw the brief flash of red eyes from beneath the onyx carved disguise of a devil — so very, very fitting— and it made her shiver. She wove in and out of the other guests, hoping to lose him as she found the alcove beneath the staircase and waited. The clock struck eleven, she heard it, and a glance over her shoulder showed her a hooded figure wearing a golden mask in the style of a Venetian domino. He held out her note. “Jane? I—”

“Not here.” She grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the foyer and into the maze of backstage corridors, up the stairs. Of course, she was relieved to see him, relieved that he had trusted her enough to do this and that she might yet be saved, but she couldn’t let herself truly breathe until they were somewhere more secure.

“Where are you taking me?”

“Not yet! We need to be further up, he could still be watching us!”

“Who is _he_? Jane, what are you—”

“Not yet!” she said again, trying not to lose her patience with him. It wasn’t his fault that he didn’t know…

Up and up, higher and higher they went until they reached that final door, out onto the roof, beneath only the statues and the stars, and for the first time in weeks, Jane felt herself truly breathe as she stripped off her mask. “This… this should be safe.”

“Safe from what?”

“Loki.” She said his name with equal parts fear, disgust and hatred, even the two syllables of his name were enough to make her remember that horrible sight… “The… _creature_ beneath the theatre, the one who tricked me. He did it all, taught me, isolated me, I never thought… I was a fool, Thor, such a fool.…”

“Who is he?”

“You believe me, then?”

He had the decency to look embarrassed. “I… overheard him in the dressing room, with you… he said I had insulted you, that you had been nothing short of glorious. When I finally got the door open, you were gone.”

Any other time, she would have scolded him for the impropriety of his actions, but she was too relieved that she would not have to go through the trouble of convincing him. “I still don’t understand how he did that myself, that whole night feels hazy now, and when I woke…” she trailed off, swallowing down the bile that was welling in her mouth.

“What? Jane, what happened, tell me, please!”

“Nothing I ever want in my life again,” Jane wrapped her arms around herself, shivering in the wind, and Thor reached out to touch her shoulder. She barely even hesitated before falling into his embrace. “If you could see what I had seen, Thor, that face… he’s not human, he can’t be. That face is something out of a nightmare, no words could possibly describe it….”

He held her close, stroking her hair as the evening chill continued its assault on the both of them. “It’s alright, Jane, I won’t let him hurt you anymore. Just tell me where I can find him, and I’ll make sure he never touches you again.”

“No!”

“ _No_? Jane, do you see yourself? Clearly, he’s driving you into madness.”

She turned in his arms so that she could look him in the eye. “I’m not mad, I am trying to save your life! Even if I could tell you the way down to Jötunheim, he has a thousand traps, a thousand ways to make certain no intruders reach his home! And you… he’d happily kill you multiple times if he could!”

“I am well aware of this, he has already made these threats in person!” Jane stepped back, eyes wide in shock as she realized what had happened after Loki had left her alone last night. She didn’t know why she had thought he was above such things. He’d given her no true reason to believe so. Thor seemed to misinterpret this as her simply reacting to the news, as he drew her into his arms again. “It’s alright, Jane, I’m alive, and next time—”

“No! There cannot be a 'next time!' I will not risk losing you!” She gripped his face in her hands, staring into his eyes. “We need to leave. That is the only way to escape him.”

“ _We_ need to leave?” He took her left hand and Jane felt her heart drop. “This would suggest otherwise, Jane. All these protestations, this fear you claim you feel, and yet—”

“Do not accuse me of loving him! I have done what I had to for my survival and yours!” she cut him off. “I followed him because I thought I wanted what he offered, my dancing seen, applauded by everyone, but…” Her grip tightened around his fingers as she looked at him with pleading eyes. “I meant what I said in my letter, Thor. _I love you_. I know now I’d trade all the fame and glory as a dancer just to have an ordinary life with you. Living with you, being loved by you… That would be paradise.”

“Then we’ll go tonight.” He pulled her in for a kiss, any anger that might have been on his face before completely cast away in favor of nothing but pure love. “I’ll book passage—”

“No… no, not tonight. He expects me back, and there are measures in place… it’s not safe.”

“From the way you speak, Jane, will it ever be safe?”

“A week from tonight. The first night of _Giselle._ We can get lost in the hustle of people, and slip away then,” she instructed gently, pressing herself against him for both warmth and comfort in the cold night air. “We’ll run then, I promise.”

“Jane…”

“If you love me, trust me.” She squeezed his hand tightly. “I _will_ keep this promise, and I will make you more promises before God and anyone else you may wish.”

“Jane Foster, is this your way of telling me that you want to be my wife?”

“More than anything.”

He laughed at that and spun her around in a kiss so energetic neither of them noticed the band on Jane’s finger had slipped free and fallen away into the night. Nor did they see, glittering amongst the stars in the sky and lights of the city, two gleaming spots of red watching them very, _very_ intently.


	5. Battu

The next seven days felt the longest of Thor’s life. Jane was deep into rehearsals before _Giselle_ ’s first performance, and every night, she had to disappear back to… Loki.

Try as he might, he could not fully shake the feeling that Jane cared for this mysterious teacher more than she was willing to admit. And night after night… No. No, he had to have faith in her. No matter how worrisome the situation was.

He trusted her, but he did not trust Loki. So, he returned to the Palais, now as a patron. Clean-shaven and impeccably dressed, no one recognized him as a former stagehand, and that suited him fine. He knew just whose palms could be greased to keep an eye on Jane and make sure that no further harm could come to her.

It was in this way that he learned Catherine Moreau and Isabelle Dupré had both suddenly been offered very lucrative contracts with other companies, ones that were far from Paris, leaving Jane to take their place, and that she already knew every step before being taught them. There was a piece missing, he just wasn’t certain what it was.

The night of the performance came faster than anticipated, but in all honesty, Thor didn’t feel it could be soon enough. The sooner he and Jane were gone from this place, the better. Jane had insisted it was too dangerous for them to meet beforehand but promised that she would meet him as soon as she had changed out of costume. He deliberately purchased a seat towards the back of the theatre, so that there could be no one in his way at the end of the performance when it came time to depart.

Even for someone who had never fully enjoyed performances, it was impossible for him to tear his eyes away the moment Jane stepped onstage. There was an otherworldly aura around her as if she might fly up into the heavens. For the first time, he found himself fully invested in the story, watching with wide eyes as her dancing grew more and more frenetic, up into the madness of her final dance. And then, just as Jane was falling to the ground, the entire auditorium was plunged into darkness. Shrieks and screams rang out amidst the sounds of loud, most likely heavy objects plummeting down towards the audience, slicing viciously through the blackened air.

_Loki_. It had to be, but how? Thor bolted out the doors, rushing for the backstage areas, which were being flooded from the other direction with fleeing stagehands, ballet rats, and other workers, making his task far more difficult. 

Then someone grabbed his arm, pulling him aside to one of the little nooks and crannies that dotted the corridors of backstage. “You will not find her that way.” Thor turned in the tight space to see Natasha Romanoff holding onto him, her icy blue eyes cutting straight into him like daggers. “She is _his_ student, yes?”

“What do you know of Loki?” Thor demanded, narrowing his own gaze at her. “If you are his accomplice—”

“Come with me, I’ll explain on the way.” She discarded her red enamel topped cane, pulling him along with her in the rush of people, out and around the theatre.

* * *

Jane awoke still in her costume from _Giselle_ , her arms bound tightly above her head. As her eyes adjusted and the drowsiness cleared, she realized she was back in the bedroom of the house underground. “No… No!” She thrashed and struggled against the ropes holding her, but they would not give, not even a centimeter.

“It does not do for a bride to be overly excited.” The sound of Loki’s voice sent a sharp bolt of fear straight through the core of her being and her head snapped towards the doorway. “Though I suppose I should take a little of the blame, I was rather rushed in plucking you away from that foolishness.” His eyes were glittering evilly, and— Jane squeezed her eyes shut so that she didn’t have to look at his enraged and unmasked face. “Ah, none of that now, Jane.” His footsteps grew close and she winced as his cold fingers latched around her chin. “Look at me,” he hissed.

“No.”

“ _I said look!”_

“And I said no,” she insisted, trying to hide the childish tremor leaking into her voice. “Please… please, just let me go—”

“You have the audacity to ask me for anything after your betrayal?” She heard the sound of a blade sliding free of its sheath and a moment later, her hands were released from their confinement only for a heavy pile of fabric to land on her legs. “You will change and you will join me in the parlor. And you will do so in a timely fashion.”

“And if I don’t?”

“My patience is at its end, Jane. Do you truly wish to test me?” His grip returned on her face long enough for it to be painful. “A timely fashion. Or I can stay to assist you.”

“No!” she blurted, perhaps faster than was safe for her at the moment. “No… I can do it myself.” She waited until his footsteps had retreated to open her eyes.

The gown he’d brought her was… she would be lying if she said it was anything other than beautiful. Rich silk, a rich blue covered by layers of thin white gossamer to give it an ethereal quality, and there was delicate embroidery and scalloping along the bodice that rivaled the fashions worn by the highest ladies of Parisian society. In other circumstances, she might have loved to wear such a dress, but here… it was simply very beautiful prisoner’s garb.

Even so, she did as she was told, forcing down multiple waves of bile in her throat as she removed her costume and stepped into Loki’s choice of attire for her.

_It does not do for a bride to be overly excited._

God in heaven, surely he didn’t mean that. She didn’t know how he had discovered her plans to flee with Thor, but he did know— so what would ever make him think that she would ever consent to marry him?

Though she managed to quell being ill, there was nothing she could do to stop the tears from running freely down her cheeks. Her consent did not seem to be something Loki was concerned with any longer. Why hadn’t she listened to Thor, why hadn’t they run thatnight she told him, why, why, why…

She gasped as she pulled a little too tightly at the lacing in the back of the dress, leaving angry red marks on her fingers and palms. The pain felt like a relief from the terror of knowing that she would probably never see the sunlight again, never breathe the fresh air… Never see Thor.

Swallowing one last time, she left her costume lying on the bed and shuffled towards the living room like a condemned man to the gallows. Loki was sitting at the pianoforte, playing some unfamiliar tune, one full of rage and passion and fire, undeniably terrible and yet oddly beautiful. For a moment, Jane stood in the doorway, unable to move or speak. Then he stopped, turning to look at her and she averted her gaze.

“Spare me your blushes,” Loki commanded, moving towards a chest by the wall, one Jane had never seen before. “And come here.” She obeyed immediately, still avoiding the daggers of his eyes. He lifted the lid of the chest, revealing two miniature animals cast in bronze; One was an eagle, wings spread in mid-flight, the other a ram, standing strong.

“I don’t understand,” she whispered.

“You have to choose one, spoiled girl. No one can have everything,” he answered cryptically. “I have a few more errands to run, but by eleven o’ clock tomorrow night, you must turn one.”

A gloved finger tapped the ram’s head, then the eagle. “Turn the ram, and I shall take it as your acceptance and a decision to remain with me. The two of us will leave behind this sordid little affair, and…Start afresh.”

He spoke so softly and tenderly that for a moment, Jane almost forgot what Loki was. Then she remembered, and she had to ask. “So if I refuse, I turn the eagle?” 

“If taking flight is truly your wish.” His voice grew hard and cold, and his hand gripped hers so tightly that her fingers turned white. “But I would consider carefully, Jane. Choices come with consequences, after all.”

“I’m not in the mood for riddles, Loki, just tell me!”

“Eleven tomorrow, Jane. Or I will turn the eagle myself, and the consequences will _fall_ on both of us.”

Something about the inflection in how he spoke made Jane take notice, but before she could ask, he swept out of the room, locking the door behind him.

She was alone, trapped in the lair of a madman, with the choice of either marrying him or refusing him at some undisclosed cost, a cost that would undoubtedly be terribly high.

The stress, the anger, the fear… all of it welled up inside her, resulting in an unbroken and wordless scream of anguish. 

* * *

**~The Account of Natalia Alianovna Romanova~**

* * *

_I was eighteen when he came to me. Eighteen and an arrogant fool who considered myself better than my so-called peers. So, of course, to have someone come into my life who not only agreed with me but encouraged me as well inflated my ego to unreasonable proportions._

_Of course, it was a different world then. As much as Paris is a place of lights and warmth, Moscow was a city of shadows and cold, and so, it was somewhat easier to ignore the oddness of a man cloaked in black and with his face covered.Loki— though he called himself Loptr then, he was undoubtedly still the same creature he is now. The only true difference was that he felt more capable of moving about freely back then, not like he is now. I thought his coverings to merely be safeguards against the cold, for he claimed to me that even though our winters were too harsh, even for him, he could not forsake their beauty. I have never fully understood what that meant, though not for years of trying._

_Under his tutelage, my star began to rise while those of my rivals would fall, often catastrophically. There were whispers that someone had angered a_ domovoi _within the theatre, and a few of the more superstitious even pointed the finger at Loptr, but nothing could be proved, and so I continued to climb the ranks of the Bolshoi corps. I was to be the next prima ballerina, not that our sights stopped there. Loptr had plans to create new works, ones that would bring audiences around the world to tears, and I was simply happy to bask in the attention. For nearly a year, we continued in this way. I made my ascent, I brought thousands to their feet with the sheer beauty of my dancing, and I was content. Then everything changed._

_Loptr had left me alone for a time, running errands of some kind that he hadn’t cared to explain to me, and in the meantime, the Bolshoi were commissioned to perform at a gala evening for the newly arrived American Ambassador. With him were two soldiers, serving as a security detail. Captain Steven Rogers and Sergeant Jame Barnes._

_My James. Where other men found my demeanor off-putting and alienating, he saw a mystery, one that intrigued him. He even came to our practices, waiting until they were over, and then assailing me with questions, and piercing my soul with eyes that were both sharp and sweet._

_“Have you ever left Russia, Tasha?” That was one of his favorite things to ask me, that charming American bastard. And oh, how I hated it when he called me Tasha, I thought it so overly familiar and arrogant, especially when he would smile at me so warmly. “I’d love to take you through New York, it’s like nothing you’ve ever seen.”_

_I never have, I told him, and I would see New York and every other stage soon enough, I did not need him to take me anywhere_

_“Has anyone ever told you that you’re beautiful?” Many times, I would say, yes, and furthermore, I was not impressed with such empty praise. After that, he started to stop by just so he could leave me little gifts, sometimes even little poems, written in clumsy, childish Russian, but clearly heartfelt._

_“Tell me something, Tasha? Do you think it’s crazy that I think I might be in love with you?” It was that last question that finally wore me down. I had always believed love was for children. I was above such things, I was a dancer, I was a goddess._

_I was a woman, faced with the loving devotion of a good yet ordinary man, and a domineering shadow who claimed that he could give me everything I ever dreamed, then disappeared without any true explanation._

_No, James, I do not think it is crazy._

_And against my better judgment, I let both of us abandon propriety and surrender to our impulses. And I shall take no shame in admitting I enjoyed it._

_“Please, say you’ll come with me when I go back, Tasha? I promise I’ll make you happy.” He whispered that question to me as we lay entangled in each other’s arms, brushing a piece of my hair away from my face. “I know I’m not… wealthy or entitled like all these princes you got here, but I’ve got a whole lot of love to give you, and I’d never ever hurt you.”_

_I could not answer. I had no idea what I was meant to say, so I simply kissed him one last time and said that I would consider it._

_I never saw him again._

_Loptr returned that night, and he knew, right away, what I had done. He did not rage as many would have, but spoke coldly, cruelly, every word cutting me to the soul and shaming me. “You cheapened yourself to the level of a whore for the sake of a few sweet words. You betrayed all the time I spent making you a true artist. I have no use for you now. There will be no more lessons.”_

_He disappeared with those words, both from the room and from my life. from Russia altogether. But he left with me a festering resentment, one that led me to spurn my poor, sweet James. I refused to see him, right up until he left, and instead threw myself back into my dancing. And at first, I refused to let Loptr’s words get to me, I pushed myself in rehearsals, to what I thought was the point of sickness. A fortnight passed before I realized such was not the case._

_I went to the company director and confessed my indiscretion. He did not want a scandal any more than I did, and so, with the help of a doctor he paid off, we staged an accident, the injury to my back everyone thinks that I still have. And since no one cares what happens to a ballerina who can no longer dance, I took what little I had and went as far west as I could._

_It had been my intention to go to America, to find James again, and beg his forgiveness, if not for me, then for the sake of our little one I carried, but the money was running thin as I reached Paris, and I needed means of supporting myself and the child._

_Or at least I had. Somewhere in between searching for employment and the filthy little hotel where I was staying, my body lost its strength, and I lost my baby. I didn’t mourn, I couldn’t find it in me to feel anything. Perhaps on some primordial level, I knew I was being punished for my arrogance, denied the happiness of ordinary people for my ambitions._

_A month later, I received word that they were interested in me as a mistress of the corps, and were willing to pay me handsomely for the prestige a member of the Bolshoi could bring. I accepted it, and tried to put my past behind me, tucked away like a dust-covered trunk in an attic._

_I did a good enough job of it too, until the day little Jane began to emerge. I knew. Just on instinct, I knew the handiwork of my former teacher, I knew what he wanted for her. But I told myself she was a reasonable girl, a clever girl, she would not surrender her soul to someone like Loptr. When she disappeared, I started looking, really looking at every detail of the company, every inch of the theater, until I found every trick he had, every trap door, every hidden passage, including one on the Rue Scribe._

_Her return relieved me somewhat, as I thought perhaps she might have escaped, but the whispers Acharnement does not wish to escape the manager’s office are ones I have heard._

_He means for her the role he would once have given me. And he will not tolerate failure a second time. Jane Foster is to be the vessel for his music, the face of the artistry he so prizes. And he intends her to be his, and only his, no matter the cost._

* * *

Thor stared down into the darkness, illuminated only by the tiny lantern held by his companion. The story she had told him as they made their journey to this passage was nothing short of fantastical, and he wasn’t certain how much of the tale he could actually believe, but that Jane was in danger was without question.

“You’re certain they’re down there?”

“Yes, I’m certain.” She passed him the lantern. “You go first, but remember to keep your hand up at the level of your eyes. There was a death here, shortly after I first arrived, a stagehand who went down below and was found hanged. They called it suicide. I know better. Loki values his privacy too much.”

“Will he hurt her?”

“There is no way of knowing. His mind is… not like ours. I trust you have a weapon?” He nodded, tapping the spot beneath his dress coat where his pistol was hidden. “Good, give it here.”

“What?”

“Give it here.” Without giving him enough time to respond, she reached across his chest and pulled the firearm free, cocking it with the ease of the most highly trained marksman. “Now, down we must descend. Time is running out.”


End file.
